


The erotic misadventures of an invisible man

by tsundanire



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Exhibitionism, In Public, Invisibility, M/M, Magical Accidents, Masturbation, Mentions of Blood, Mild choking with cock, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Public Blow Jobs, Public Masturbation, Scent Kink, Snark, gratuitous growling, intercurial, mild throat fucking, thigh fucking, trap spell, yrden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22388767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsundanire/pseuds/tsundanire
Summary: After accompanying Geralt on his latest monster kill, Jaskier finds himself a tad... invisible. Which at first is horrifying, considering he prides himself on preening in front of others. But temptation comes in the form of Geralt in various public situations, where he has to maintain some semblance of decorum.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 41
Kudos: 606





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this insanity is my second venture into the witcher fandom and honestly, I don't think there's any looking back at this point. I really want to thank my betas: @coriesocks and @diligent-thunder for being sturdy rocks of teaching. I feel like I've learned a lot from you both this time around and I am looking forward to our next adventure together (re: chap 2) :D
> 
> Thanks also to @cheekytorah for the incredible banner! All the hearts to you darling!

I blame Geralt entirely, of course. If it wasn’t for him, and that most recent monster bounty, I would still be able to look in a mirror and gaze upon the frame that women (and men) have fallen in lust with. Now I can’t even see my own prick for a piss. Because I’m fucking invisible.

“It’ll wear off,” Geralt keeps telling me. 

But he doesn’t have to live like this. I’m the one suffering because of his negligence. I’m the one who won’t be seen in his finest attire to the upcoming wedding feast of some King I don’t bloody give a fuck about. The only reason I’m going in is because Geralt got the invitation; I’ve spent so long building his reputation that it wouldn’t do to have it demolished in one night. 

I can only hope the magic wears off before then, otherwise I’m going to make life hell on earth for that bloody son of a—

—

The tavern was full of drunkards, bandits, and thieves. Geralt had taken a spot in the back, barely lit by the sconces lining the walls.

“I don’t know why you’re sulking. At least people can see _you_ ,” I snarked. “By now, I’d be upstairs, fucking a woman or two. And maybe even one of the men.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s grunt could have meant anything. In this case, paired with a disinterested gaze, it was almost insulting. 

“Well excuse you. I’ll have you know I’m quite the proficient lover, thank you,” I added.

Geralt didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the tavern wench standing at the bar—her tits overflowing out of her corset. Damn the bastard. 

The thoughts filtering through my mind took an interesting turn. Was he imagining fucking her? Or did he wanted something more convenient, like a quick game of tug-a-nug just outside the tavern. _Convenient._

The word had me slipping to my knees beneath the table—ignoring the dust and grime build-up. I reached out to steady myself, hands braced on the inner part of both his thighs. I felt Geralt jump in his seat.

“Bard. Stop,” he growled. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” I replied. My palms traveled over his incredibly powerful thighs, enjoying the feel of the coarse leather against my fingertips.

“I can no longer enjoy my evening the way I wish. And since it’s your fault, I’m taking my frustrations out on you.” 

I felt his muscles tense beneath my fingers, giving me a hint of the power trapped The mere idea of it was so erotic, I couldn’t help but stiffen in my britches. I thought of riding him as if he were some wild beast in need of taming, and the lucrative thought pulled a sound from me—somewhere between a moan and sigh. 

“Last warning, Bard.”

The threat was hardly veiled; but the gravelly way he spoke pushed me further into the depths of depravity. He might kick me away, but if there was a chance I could taste glory tonight, then by fuck I was taking it. 

I reached out, undoing the laces of the leather that kept him concealed. The fabric parted—like gates before a majestic kingdom—allowing me access to the piece of him I was desperate to devour. Calling him a beast before hadn’t been as accurate as it was the moment I saw his cock in all it’s unsheathed glory. It curved tantalizingly upwards, thicker than my own by quite a bit, and longer too. Rather than jealousy, all I felt was unbridled desire, flashing hot through my whole body. The tip leaked with a translucent fluid, betraying Geralt’s desire for either the wench, or more likely, the activity I was offering.

My progress was halted when Geralt’s hand reached beneath the table, grasped my hair, and pulled my head back. I swallowed hard, my hips mildly bucking into the air from the roughness.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Geralt’s voice hit a lower timber than usual, betraying his need. 

“I’m doing what you likely want _her_ to be doing to you right now,” I replied. My voice trembled, but there was no point hiding how much I wanted him to give in to this. 

“Hmm.”

“And unlike her, _I_ can actually get away with doing it right here. Right now.”

The hand holding my head back tensed for a brief moment, then pulled me closer until my nose was buried in the thicket of white hair. My mind went blank—my body almost numb—as I took in the depth of his scent. By no account should he smell as intoxicatingly arousing as he did, but I felt saliva begin to fill my mouth. Fuck, I wanted him. He was fire and brimstone, blood and death. He would be my ruin but there was no way I could stop. 

I angled my head so that I could run my lips up the sensitive underside of his prick, flicking out my tongue to tease and taste the salty flesh. The floor was hard beneath my knees, and I knew I couldn’t maintain this position forever. 

I was wrong to think his scent alone could sustain me. But I didn’t have time to linger on the flavour, as the hand keeping me close tugged harder, urging me to take him between my lips and envelop him in the slick heat that was my mouth. And I obeyed. 

“Fuck.” The quiet curse fell from the Witcher’s lips. 

Despite only having practiced a handful of times, I knew I was fairly skilled with my mouth. Perhaps it was due to my innate skills as a bard; however, there was no doubt in my mind that my tongue was as wicked when composing ballads, as it was right now, curling around Geralt in teasing strokes. Given that my hands were still resting on his thighs, I felt the way his muscles tensed and twitched with each drag of my mouth. Again, the feeling of restrained power got to me; and even though no one could see, my eyes rolled back on a groan.

The hiss from Geralt meant he’d felt my moan reverberating around his length. That he responded so readily to quiet noises, made me want to pleasure myself more. I removed one hand from his thigh and quickly unlaced my own bindings, then slipped my hand beneath the fabric until I could grasp my flushed, leaking prick. It wasn’t ideal but I would have to use whatever I made there as lubricant in the meantime, as both my mouth and other hand were very busy. Mild chafing was a small price to pay when one had Geralt of Rivia’s thick cock in their mouth.

The sounds of the tavern seemed so far away as I focused all my attention on sucking Geralt off. He was warmer than I had imagined—and yes, I’m not ashamed to admit I’d put extensive thought into the matter. Between being smothered in the richness of his scent, and the dominating hand at my scalp, I knew it wouldn’t be very long before I spilled into my fist. I tried to slow my strokes, because I’d only just begun, but knowing I was doing this in plain sight of everyone, and feeling the tensing of Geralt’s thighs as I worked him with every bob of my head, I was a mess. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled. The sound of it made my prick twitch and dribble. “Are you touching yourself?” 

I couldn’t tell if it was an admonishment or genuine surprise, but I slipped him out of my mouth to answer. 

“I am.” My voice was wrecked and raw, but apparently the exact thing Geralt wanted to hear. He growled and pulled my head back to his cock, grinding against my lips as if it would bring him closer to the edge.

“I can smell the arousal on you.” It was the closest he’d ever been to calling me a slut, and I’d never been more aroused by the insinuation. Fuck, but he was making me desperate. I wanted to release but somehow I had the feeling I wasn’t permitted to just yet.

Despite the torn attention, I refocused myself on the task of devouring him in as fully as I could, until I was once more immersed in his scent. I knew I was undone by this man when a single thought occured to me: _I’d let him fuck me right here. Right over this table, for all to see. Not that they would see, of course. They would just see Geralt, arched over the table, fucking the air until he came._ I moaned around him as I imagined it, and heard the slick, slippery sounds of my mouth getting thoroughly fucked. He bucked forward, grunting as he brought his hands around my head, controlling my angle and speed. 

“Damn it, Jaskier. That fucking mouth. Singing is a waste of your talents.” 

I would have been thoroughly insulted, if I didn’t completely agree with him in that moment. If it was a job up for negotiation, I would happily allow my mouth to become his permanent cocksleeve. And sure, that was probably just the arousal and impending orgasm speaking, but still.

I felt the blunt edges of his nails digging into my scalp, urging me to take in more of him, to go faster, tighter, to be the ultimate pleasure for him in that moment.

Despite the obvious arousal coursing through him, Geralt was the epitome of _unaffected_ to the rest of the tavern’s many guests. Anyone who bothered to look their way would see that, although tense, his expression was neutral. They wouldn’t see the tremble in his body—the one that I could feel against my other hand—nor would they see the slight upwards tilt his hips made as he tried to subtly fuck my mouth. I knew he wanted more, and that if he could, he would have our angles shifted to allow him easier access to fuck my throat. 

I slid my free hand up along his thigh to gently caress his bollocks in my palm. I know that I enjoy the feeling of being massaged like that, and I assumed it might be the same for Geralt. Despite the incredible rush this all was, I was desperate for more time, and more space to explore him from top to bottom. To discover what he liked, what he didn’t; to find out what made him unfurl like a giant cat; what drove him wild.

“Fuck, Jaskier.” Geralt’s mouth growled out my name. The sound of it hit me right in the groin, pulsing into my bloodstream. I choked on the girth of him, spluttering as I tried to hold back. I needed to know what he felt like, sounded like, fucking smelled like when he came. I knew it was inevitable, from the way his body jerked around, to the way he began to make a little more noise, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Just like that, fuck, so close—” Geralt growled again, the timbre of his voice pitched low and broken. His fingers dug into my scalp so hard my head started to hurt.

I felt the first throb before the taste of salt filled my mouth. He jerked me hard, pressing himself as deeply down into my mouth as he could get without restricting my breathing. I swallowed him as thoroughly as I could, despite spluttering and struggling to gulp down what felt like rivers of come shooting into my mouth.

Inherently, I knew he was still climaxing into my mouth, but I blacked out as I spilled into my own fist, barely cognizant of the fact that I wasn’t breathing—which only served to string out my own orgasm just a little longer. 

When at last we both stilled, I was still heaving like I’d spent the entire running and only just now stopped to breath. Geralt hadn’t made a move to tuck himself away, but that was alright. I wasn’t rushing either. I could barely think, and the things that were registering, were more focused on understanding what had just happened, and why—despite having just come harder than I had in a long time—I was desperate to do this again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier learns that being invisible has substantial perks at times. Including saving Geralt from peril, and getting away with wanking in public. Possibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay this took waaaaay longer than expected because it _is_ much longer than expected lol. Huge huge huge huge thanks go out to @ruarcher/coriesocks for doing the best beta work ever and spoiling me with praise. And @lgrey/diligent-thunder for listening to me ramble about eventually finishing this, while we worked on other things. YOUR PATIENCE TOWARDS ME IS INCREDIBLE!
> 
> Thank you all for giving this a read~ I'll see you all in chapter 3!

We didn’t talk about what happened. 

Of course, I’m not entirely sure what either of us would say if we _were_ to talk about it. 

‘ _Thanks for the use of your mouth._ ’

The thought of Geralt saying that caused further clothing issues, rather than make things less awkward. Though—still being invisible—it wasn’t as much of a problem besides blood flow and circulation. 

Which really only meant: we didn’t talk about it. That didn’t stop me from thinking about it, however. Every second of every minute of every hour. And if the memories of it all weren’t enough, I was now stuck by Geralt’s side while he hunted down his newest contract. 

“Stay close. You’re dangerous on your own,” had been Geralt’s gruff ~~command~~ request. I obeyed, not because I was being purposefully acquiescent, but because I didn’t have any better reason not to listen. And _perhaps,_ this would be one of those rare opportunities where I could watch Geralt work without concern for my own livelihood. 

“I swear, Geralt, you’re becoming like an overbearing father. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of staying _out_ of trouble when I need to.”

Geralt grunted, possibly unamused by the idea of being _anyone’s_ father. Or maybe he was disagreeing with my statement. 

“You!” I pointed at him and shouted. I stared at the space my hand was meant to be and groaned. “You don’t believe me, do you?” 

“No. You make it your life’s work to get _into_ trouble. Why would I have reason to believe otherwise?” 

“I—! You—,” I spluttered, unable to get out more than a couple words. 

I would have argued further, but the moment was cut off when Roach halted her pace. Her ears flicked about, eyes darting back in fear. Whatever they were hunting, it was close. 

“Stay with Roach,” Geralt commanded, dismounting from the saddle and pulling out his silver blade.

I didn’t argue. Silver often meant more than a handful of bandits.

—

After the battle we ended up by the river, me leaning heavily on Geralt, who did his best to support my weight despite not being able to see me. The gash on my leg burned mildly, but I wasn’t worried. Geralt assured me that the beast wasn't venomous, which meant the stinging sensation radiating through my leg was from the wound rather than through a deadly toxin eating my flesh from the inside out. He reckoned I was perfectly fine and just needed to wash the wound before it got infected. Though I gave him a thorough ear-lashing for his lack of bed-side manner and concern for my well being. 

“If I die here—” I started, half-jokingly, but he cut me off with a noise. 

“You’re not going to die, bard,” he rumbled, setting me down by the water’s edge. “It’s a fucking scratch.”

It was still a few hours ride to the nearest town, and lord only knew how bad the wound actually was, since neither of us could _fucking see it._

“Stay put,” Geralt grunted. It took everything not to mock him. He knew best of course, when it came to injuries, and honestly I was in a decent amount of pain. 

As Geralt walked off in search of who knew what, I stripped out of my clothes—watching as they became visible, once again, upon hitting the ground. I was covered in blood and a rather disgusting layer of monster innards, which was about the only reason Geralt could see the basic form of me. The layers I tossed aside fell beside me with a squelch that made me gag, another reminder of the beast we’d slayed. 

As the water lapped at the bank in quiet ripples, I stretched out enough to let the water splash against my feet. _Shit!_ It was cold! Damned cold like mountain water, which was likely considering the forest we’d been circling was growing around a damned mountain in the first place. 

I moved further into the water, slowly at first as my body became accustomed to the temperature, until eventually I was submerged to the waist. It wasn’t a bath but it wasn’t horrible either. Once I’d moved about a bit, warmth returned to my limbs and I could swim about with ease.

My muscles were tight, I could feel that even more so in the water. But it wasn’t like I had a me to go about massaging my tired and aching limbs. I considered hiring one of the ladies when we arrived in the next town, and then remembered my predicament. _Fuck_. 

I shouted out my frustrations as I scraped my nails down either side of my arms. I was furious, frustrated, and fucking hard. I blinked, looking down between my legs, where I could feel my cock jutting out. Well, fuck. That was unexpected. 

I wrapped a hand around my hardened cock curiously. Usually there was rhyme and reason behind my erections; sometimes a pair of firm tits, other times just a perfectly pert arse. But I was in the wild, with nothing about me but trees and water. And my thoughts. 

_My thoughts_.

Memories of the day before came back to me in a rush that punched through me so hard that I groaned. It wasn’t even that I’d forgotten, because how does one even forget something like that, but amidst the fighting and carnage, remembering how Geralt sounded when he came was not high on my list of things to think about. 

But it very much was now. 

Oh dear lord it was now. 

I waded through the water until my waist was submerged, then stilled so that I could rut with wild abandon into my fist. Still no sign of Geralt, not that it mattered—he wouldn't be able to see more than the running river. 

I groaned softly, remembering how it felt to hold some of that power against my hands, and the weight of him in my mouth. I was panting; I could hear it as clear as any bird singing or insect buzzing. I couldn’t risk more, despite wanting to moan with abandon. I wasn’t exactly a quiet lover, and it wasn’t like there were any people for leagues, however I knew Geralt was lurking near enough to hear me if I got too wild. 

“F-fuck—” I bit down on my lip, teasing my wrist around the sensitive underside and the muscle pulsing there as if it were a direct line to the pleasure in my groin. I wanted to fuck, I wanted to be fucked—I honestly couldn’t decide which I wanted more right now, or which would yeild the deepest satisfaction.

The only thing I knew at that moment was how desperately I _wanted_ Geralt. I wanted to feel him splayed out beneath me while I covered his body in bites. I was pure need and desperation, to the point that I was mildly concerned I’d been attacked by a lust demon of some kind. Groaning quietly, I let my head fall back, and my eyes shutter closed. 

An image flashed before my eyes, of Geralt on his knees, sucking me into his mouth fervently, while his fingers dug into my hips. The fantasy wasn’t as perfect as having him against my hands like the night before, but I’d take whatever my mind decided to supply. I needed to come, and I wanted Geralt to be the only person in my mind when I did. It was probably crossing a line but I was allowed to fantasize about whatever I wished. 

Including a pair of yellow eyes flashing up at me as he hungrily devoured every inch of my cock. I wanted to weave my fingers through his hair, curling in to grip at his head. I wanted him to let me fuck his mouth, until I released every ounce of me between those perfect lips. 

A noise had me snapping my eyes open, and I spotted Geralt returning with Roach. I panicked for a moment until I remembered my predicament. He wouldn’t see me, couldn’t see me, and I could keep stroking myself like this to the very end. 

“Jaskier?” he called out. I moved slowly this time, my hand pausing briefly at the base, then moving towards the tip again. It was intoxicating, having him here, having him so close and yet teasing myself like this. _Fuck_. 

“Over here, Geralt,” I replied, proud that my voice hadn’t wavered. I continued my task carefully, bringing myself as close as I dared without disturbing the water too much, nor making any sounds that would bring attention to my activities below the water. 

He continued walking forward until he was right at the edge of the water. He gazed out, eyes scanning from North to South, which I assumed was for me but could also have been for bandits. 

But the thought of continuing on like this with him right there made me feel off. I sighed in frustration but knew that it was the right thing to do. 

I waded out of the water, ignoring how hard I was and how dazed I felt. The sound of my feet sloshing through the water pulled Geralt’s attention to me. 

“Got Roach. Should be something in here you can wear temporarily.” Geralt spoke to me while digging through one of the saddle bags. 

I couldn’t tell for sure but his whole demeanor seemed to stiffen in my presence. Holding a hand out, I quickly double checked myself to make sure I was still invisible—ironic considering how much I hated being unseen. 

“Here.” He tossed some fabric my way. 

It smelled like him. Oh god, it fucking _smelled_ just like him. Just that scent right under his skin, the same smell I had my nose buried in last night. I bit back a groan and burrowed my face in the fabric to keep from screaming, thankful that he couldn’t see me struggle to get it on. And as per the enchantment, the shirt vanished the moment it went over my head. He tossed pants my way as well, and I quickly stepped into the legs. I knew, without being able to see myself, that I would have looked ridiculous in all the extra fabric. Height-wise, everything fit. But Geralt was much bulkier than I, with muscles in places I could only dream—which meant a lot of extra fabric going around. 

“How far out are we from the village?” I asked, deflecting my thoughts from dangerous places. The less I had to focus on how mind-numbingly aroused I was, the better. 

“Not far. Hour or two at most.” Geralt adjusted some of the straps on Roach’s saddle, then hoisted himself up. 

I groaned at the thought of having to walk that long in my current state. Geralt must have heard it because he reached a hand down to me.

“Wait, really?” I tried to contain my excitement. 

Before he could retract the offer though, I grasped his firm hand in mine and allowed my body to be yanked up. I was sure he could feel my hardness pressing into his thigh as I tried to adjust behind him, but he was kind enough not to say anything about it. 

Being this close to him, having my whole body pressed so tightly against him, was absolutely maddening. I bit down on my lip to keep from panting, which was made worse the moment Geralt sent Roach into a trot. I held on to him with one hand wrapped around his waist, but the way his arse was tucked into my groin was distressing. 

There was no way he didn’t know, I was practically stabbing him. I nearly lost it when I felt him shift his hips, as he adjusted himself in the saddle. But in the course of twenty minutes, Geralt had done it three times.

“G-Geralt!” I winced, my voice cracking at a higher pitch. “C-could you just, stop wriggling about so much?” 

“Why?” The tone was surprisingly smug, if a bit sharp.

I faltered. He was doing it on purpose. The absolute _bastard_! 

Gritting my teeth, I tried to angle my body enough to prevent further contact. But given that we were on a horse, there wasn’t much in the way of extra space. I growled in annoyance, though it wasn’t nearly as spine-tingling as Geralt’s. 

“Sand in your britches, bard?”

I wanted to scream. I couldn’t do this for another hour. Not a chance. 

“Stop the horse,” I muttered darkly. 

“Hmm.” Geralt ignored my request and even went as far as giving Roach a little kick, urging the horse forward just a touch faster. 

“Geralt!” I shouted, outraged that he’d chosen to ignore me. “Let me down, I’m going to walk.” 

“No.” 

It was futile trying to argue with him on the best of days, but today he seemed especially determined to kill me via blood loss. 

“I swear, Geralt. I cannot do this with you today.” There was ice frosting my words. I couldn’t fight him and part of me didn’t want to, but I was over-frustrated and his arse was making things so much worse. 

I tried to pull my hand away from his chest but one of Geralt’s hands dropped the reigns and grasped my hand firmly. They entwined the way they might if we’d been lovers—which sent a small thrill down my spine—as our hands travelled down his chest, over his stomach and finally resting on his lap. 

If I’d thought I was painfully aroused before, lost in the sea of how desperately I wanted Geralt, he made sure I knew how wrong I was. He flipped my hand so that my palm pressed into the fabric, but more so that I could feel how hard he actually was as well. I gulped, and knew that if I was visible, pink would be creeping its way down my entire body. 

“You’re—Geralt, you’re hard!” 

“The bard is as astute as he is aroused.”

My cock gave a hearty throb, which he no doubt felt against his arse. I knew this because I could feel the moment he twitched as well. He liked this. Wanted this. _Fuck_. 

“I saw you. In the water. Not fully, but the sun was reflecting off the water on your skin.”

Shame washed over me in waves. 

“Geralt, I—” 

Any explanation was lost in its tracks as Geralt lifted my hand once more, and slid it beneath the warm leather, down his belly and into the curled hairs that surrounded his girthy length. 

No doubt, I made a noise, I just wasn’t entirely sure what the noise was. A groan? A grunt, maybe? His hand was still gripping mine, guiding me through the thatch of hair and up around his cock. His other hand held Roach’s reigns but also pulled the leather down until he was completely exposed to the air. 

The tip was leaking already, which was helpful as I glided my palm over him in smooth strokes—much the way I had to myself earlier. He’d felt bigger in my mouth, but perhaps that was the way of such things, still there was no doubt in my mind that he’d stretch me in ways I suddenly desperately wanted to feel. 

As Roach continued walking towards our destination, a mild rain began to fall. It was soft and cool on my overheated skin. I suddenly had the urge to have Geralt take me right here. Perhaps not on Roach, nor in the saddle. 

“I’m sure if you pull to the side, we can find a cave or something,” I started to suggest, desperation and arousal throwing sanity out the wayside. 

“No. We’re not stopping.” 

I frowned. What sort of game was he playing at? Was he intending for me to get him off while I was forced to wait or at the least grind against him from behind? The latter wasn’t a horrible idea but at the moment, it wasn’t providing enough of the right kind of friction that I was craving.

“You’re being obtuse,” I whined, letting my head drop against the back of his neck. 

“Hardly. I can smell your arousal from here. I know how much you want it and I’m going to make you wait.”

“Why?! What have I done to deserve that?” I hissed. 

“It’s not something specific that you’ve done,” Geralt began. I swallowed at the way his voice held the tiniest of tremors. Perhaps I was getting to him more than I had initially believed. 

“Then what?” I whispered, not daring to break the tension building between us. 

“Hmm,” he grunted. I assumed that was his answer, and was fully prepared to sulk about it, perhaps throw a fit or two. But then he spoke again, hand tightening around mine. I gave him a slow stroke in our tightened fists, and felt the shudder that ran through his body. 

“I want you completely overcome with lust by the time we get there.” He said it in such a straight-forward manner, that my mind needed a moment to catch up. 

I groaned, hips bucking against him of their own accord. There was a feeling crawling under my skin, of wanting to rut against him right in this seat. It wouldn’t be comfortable but I couldn’t think. When I spoke next, my voice wavered with need. 

“I’m already there, Geralt. I’m so far gone. Please, just take me here.”

I felt him—rather than heard him—groan. He wanted me just as badly but his self-control was apparently still intact. 

“No. You’ll wait,” he growled at me. “Like a good bard.”

This time I _did_ moan. 

—

As we closed in on the town, I was shaking. I couldn’t grind against him hard enough to get over the edge—and I had spent the entire ride begging and pleading with him. He could have taken me on the side of the road and I would have been perfectly content with that. 

Instead he had made me wait the entire ride, while I moaned and whimpered in his ear. It wasn’t fair. Not by any standards. I was a mess, could barely think, and almost fell off of Roach twice. Geralt had made a few small sounds, enough to keep me right on the edge. 

Just as we exited the forest, and civilization popped up all around us, Geralt removed my hand from his leathers, and tucked himself away. He was still quite painfully aroused and the snug fit of his trousers did nothing to hide it. Instead he undid the flowy black shirt and let it rest in front to hide his arousal from prying eyes.

“We’re here.” Geralt tugged on Roach’s reigns, guiding her to the wooden post just outside the tavern we’d been staying. 

My mind was still scattered, fogged up with lust, but my body followed Geralt’s automatically—like a toy at the end of a string. He was careful not to bump into anyone, and I was just as careful to stay at his back, lest someone discover an invisible person running amok. They might have kicked Geralt out on principle alone, claiming he was the pervert allowing some invisible monster to seduce their wives. 

Reality was far less interesting, however, as _I_ was the pervert who wanted Geralt to fuck me so hard into the mattress, we might actually break it. 

“Welcome back, Sir! Were you able to slay the demon?” The innkeeper called out as casually as anyone one would, having no idea that he was preventing a lot of orgasms from happening with his inane chatter. Dear god, was this what Geralt felt like every time I talked?

I closed my eyes and attempted to breath slowly through my nose. Geralt’s voice filtered through my mind as he answered, but I could scarcely interpret the words. He sounded so far away. 

It wasn’t until we’d made it back to our room—the warmth of the roaring fire surrounding me despite the chill from the stone walls—that my mind returned to me, at least partially. 

“Geralt?” I groaned, body trembling with need from the over-stimulus on the way here. “Fuck me. Please. Now,” I added, with no further preamble.

“On the bed,” Geralt ordered. And I obeyed. 

I stripped out of the shirt and trousers he’d given me, both amazed and annoyed at seeing the fabric re-materialize when strewn on the floor. Of all the people, and of all the curses, it was absolute rotten luck that I’d been the one hit with a vanity curse. While I groused on the bed, Geralt busied himself with moving stuff about the room, then stripping down to nothing. 

I’d seen him naked before, of course, but it never failed to leave me breathless. He was impressively large all over, muscles bulging in places I wasn’t even aware muscles could be. And those thighs. I could wax poetic about his thighs for ages, create odes and ballads just on the subject of them. He’d kill me, of course, but I was starting to wonder if it would be worth it all the same. 

“Are you going to make me wait much longer? I’m wasting away here, and if you don’t fuck me soon, I swear Geralt, I’ll do it myself.” 

Geralt couldn’t see me, and yet he pinned me down with a glare. 

“No. You won’t. Understood?” The command was expressly clear. Abundantly so.

“Yes.” I whispered. I wanted to be petulant, to demand more, to shout frustratedly into the air, but Geralt had wormed his way into my head. He had more control over me than I had over myself. I wanted to please him, not just physically, but also by doing what he asked. 

I turned to look at him and saw that he was already sprawled on the bed, cock in hand, stroking up and down as casually as one would when one was alone. It probably felt like that, with me being invisible, but in moment I was certain it was a Geralt thing. That even if I was visible, he’d still be doing the same thing, only with eyes roving over my body. 

“How do you do that?” I asked, feeling the breath _whoosh_ out of me. 

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like I’m the only one you want, despite the fact that you can’t see me.” 

“Hmm.” His response sounded amused compared to it’s usual disgruntledness.

I eyed him from top to bottom, allowing myself a selfish moment to truly take in every glorious inch of him. In the past it was always about privacy and not sparing a moment for lingering lustful glances. 

“Can I touch you?”

The moment Geralt inclined his head in acceptance, my hands were on him, exploring every vast inch of him. I took my time, since I wasn’t crouched beneath a table trying to get him off. No, I had all night if I wanted, to trail my fingers up his legs, span his glorious thighs, and splay across his scarred belly. For now, I avoided the length of cock jutting out of thick curls. I wanted to burrow my face there, but I knew it would be all over if I did. I’d want nothing else, and I’d spend the entire time making him come just like that. 

I couldn’t see my hands touching him, and I was suddenly very saddened by the thought. The idea of seeing my flesh against his, knowing that it was me bringing him pleasure, brought me to a whole new height of aroused. My cock pulsed once against Geralt’s thigh, which I _knew_ he felt, considering I could feel his own against my belly, twitching eagerly in reply. 

“I wish I wasn’t invisible,” I mentioned solemnly. “I wish I could see the way my hand looks against your chest.” 

“This isn’t permanent. You’ll be back to normal soon enough.” Geralt tried to allay my fears.

“Still. It’s rather unfortunate that I have you beneath me like this and I’m—”

“Stay here,” Geralt commented as he rolled us, leaving me in bed and him walking away. I worried for a moment that perhaps I pushed him too much and ruined the moment, but he walked as far as the other side of the room and grabbed the full length mirror, bringing it right up to the edge of the bed. 

“On your knees, bard,” he commanded. And, of course, I listened. 

“What is this for?” I asked, looking into the mirror but seeing nothing reflect back at me. This wasn’t making me feel any better about the whole situation. 

“Patience,” Geralt rumbled, hands reaching out as he climbed on the bed. I shifted enough to let him feel where I was. 

His hands copied what mine had been doing, tracing out every inch of me from legs to neck. Lips followed in the path of fingertips, burning a trail over my skin. I shivered and bit down on any sounds that tried to escape. I felt him at my arse, fingers toying with me, slicking me with an oil. But my eyes were on the glorious reflection of him. It hit me then, just how intense this could get, watching him in the mirror while feeling him at my back. This time I couldn’t hold back the groan. 

The muddled feeling in my brain had tamped down my desire to a hearth filled with slowly burning embers, but the moment he pushed within my depths, the heat that had been building within me for the last couple hours flared into a roaring fire. 

“G-gah!” I gasped, back arching as he speared into me. 

All this time, waiting, wanting, desperately desiring, and now he was finally taking me agonizingly slowly. I felt his fingers curve over my hips, then travel upwards to my chest.

“Lift yourself up and lean into me. I want you to watch this.” Geralt rumbled into my ear. 

“Fuck.” I hissed, both at the sensation of feeling his breath at my neck while he continued rocking into me, as well as the words he commanded. 

Slowly, I lifted my chest and rested my shoulders against his chest, allowing him to partially support my weight while I remained semi-boneless. Looking ahead, my eyes caught sight of the motion in the mirror, enchanting me as I watched Geralt fuck into nothingness. 

It should not have been nearly as arousing as it was—seeing Geralt thrust forward, cock slick with oil and reddened from stimulation. I could see drips of white fluid slowly pool out of the tip, but rather than falling to the bed as gravity should have insisted, it remained on him, shifting up and down his length as he thrust in and out of me. I wrapped a hand tight around my bollocks, breath heaving out of me as if I was being chased by a monster rather than being so properly fucked. 

The air was filled with a chorus of skin meeting skin, and the slick wet sound of his cock grinding into my well-lubricated hole. But more than that were the sounds of my moans getting louder, and his grunts rolling into heavy growling sounds. It was maddening. He gripped me with arms tight around my waist and one over my chest. If I could see myself, I’d have said he looked almost possessive of my body. Which didn’t help my need for release. It made it worse. So. Much. Worse. 

I leaned back fully, bringing one arm up and reaching behind to gently run my fingers through his hair. At the feel of such a gentle touch, I felt Geralt slow his pace. He’d been barreling into me hard and furious, but now he took his time, gliding in and out with an ease made by passion. Despite not being able to see me, his nose found my neck, followed by his lips, and then his tongue. 

Each thrust was met with a kiss to another part of my neck, until they moved from my shoulders to my jaw. I shivered in Geralt’s grasp.

“Ngh, Geralt! Please,” I whispered on a moan, unable to say the words any louder.

“Easy, Jaskier. Easy,” he murmured back to me, the words pressing into my skin, deeper than any kiss could have gone. “Let me help you.” 

The hand around my waist slipped lower and encircled my over-sensitive cock. I whimpered as he gave it a couple quick tugs to get it slicked—but all he did was chuckle warmly in my ear, then tease me with languid strokes, skimming over the tip briefly but enough to send a jolt into my core. 

The room was warming deliciously around me, sweat trickling down my arms, and over my chest. I could feel the dampness at my back as Geralt pressed against me. All of it would have been more than enough to set me off, but just seeing the raw animalistic sensuality that was Geralt in the mirror—seemingly alone and fucking into nothing—pulled a savage cry from my throat. 

“Nngh-! Y-yes, Geralt. Mmph-just like that,” I groaned as we rocked together in blissful harmony—like waves rolling over the shore. He was the moon, and I the tide, drawn to the shore on his whims. The truth hit me harder than any climax ever could. There was a song in all of it somewhere, but it would be prose for another day, not to be shared with others. This was his song just for me, and though I had to share him with the world, I could hold on to this verse of our connection and allow it to sustain me to the end of my days. 

“Faster Geralt, please. So close,” I begged, a sound he seemed to very much enjoy. 

His hand sped over my throbbing length, pulling a litany of filth and sounds from my mouth. In all my life, I could never once remember a time I’d wanted to orgasm harder; but when I did, it felt like my life simultaneously exploded out of me, and pieced back together. I couldn’t see it but I knew I was making my own puddle on the bed, if not the mirror.

Geralt wasn’t far behind, and I watched with orgasmic rapture as his cock pulsed in the air, pouring out white into me, which held its place in the air until he pulled out—at which point, it started dripping out of me and down my leg. 

I could scarcely remember the moments after, simply enraptured by the feeling of being at peace. But I felt Geralt carefully lay me back and wipe a wet cloth around the places he’d been. I was minutely disappointed, as I wanted to keep traces of him on me for as long as I could, but I wasn’t in a place to argue. When my eyes closed, it was on the feeling of Geralt curling in behind me, lips pressing tenderly to my neck, before he too succumbed to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr: @tsundanire


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt attend a ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this only took forever to finish. But it IS finally done. I want to thank everyone who came on this journey with me. This very smutty journey. ;) I hope you all enjoyed it, it was a blast putting together. Of course, NONE of this could have been done without the incredible help of @coriesocks who not only patiently held my hand as I worked through this, but also took the time to check for errors and point out some glaringly gaping holes (besides Jaskiers') and giving it a few more once-overs when finished. I want to thank @lgray for being another being of patience and encouragement, and @thunder-of-dragons who kept me on task when my ADD wanted my mind to wander. Love to you all, and to everyone who took(takes) the time to read, kudo, and/or comment. You have my heart and my love. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Jay

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this, Geralt? I mean, it’s not like anyone would expect you to be there anyway,” I murmured quietly to the man at my side.

The ballroom itself was full of lively guests and entertainments, but thankfully not so full that Jaskier had trouble maneuvering himself around people.

“There’s no other option. I don’t have any other leads on this creature and someone here knows something they shouldn’t.” Geralt’s gruff voice rumbled through me, reminding me of the night before. It was the second time in so few days that I’d had to listen to him talk after having enjoyed other sounds that had fallen from those sinful lips.

I quelled the rising feelings of arousal I’d become all too familiar with in his presence.

Technically, we were here on a mission. Geralt was hunting down clues that would allow him to track a monster hunting down the elite members of society. Or at least, that’s what the contract had explained.

In my—frankly far too often ignored—opinion, I knew the whole thing to be a sham and a waste of time. I knew this because I’d worked these circuits recently, and this particular glittering throng was known for throwing money at well-known people and expecting them to play the part of trussed-up-puppet for the night.

Geralt thought he was learning about his potential hunt, and I knew he was simply being put on display. Not that I minded of course, and not that I’d ever tell him the truth of the matter, because—quite honestly—this played to my definite advantage. I had been out of my element the last few days—not being able to prance about like the distinguished peacocking tease that I’ve been known to be—and it’s taken some time to acclimate to being unseen.

They were really off when they came up with the term “seen and not heard”, because let me tell you, there’s something to be said for watching your newly acquired bed partner fucking the air where your body is meant to be, and watching him spill inside you. And despite his constant complaints about my ceaseless conversation, Geralt couldn’t seem to get enough of my noises. Each time I moaned, or whimpered, he’d grip me harder—or reward me with a sliding of skin against skin.

I shuddered where I stood, remembering the feel of him taking me so solidly. Never in my life have I ever craved someone as much as I craved Geralt. It astounded me, brought melodies to my mind and words that I could never share. Not because I worried that Geralt would kill me if I ever alluded to his softer, sensual side, but because what had happened—what _was_ happening—between us was intimate, and not something I wanted to share with the world. It was something just for me. And him.

I looked to him then, taking in his beastly manner—despite being draped in the finest cloth the kingdom had to offer—and his threatening disposition. And though I knew he could practically slay things with his mind, I could now see the softer male that lay within. The one who’d curled his body around me in the cool night’s breeze, the one who’d awoken in the early hours and pressed the softest kisses to my shoulder.

I knew what I felt, and I could only surmise what he did, but I couldn’t place any bets on the matter—nor would I want to, considering what was at stake. I felt a surge of some oddly romantic notion, wishing I could press myself to him in the same manner other women of the court did to their husbands.

I wanted to entwine our hands as we walked the length of the open court, or slide my arm comfortingly around his as we strolled and smiled at the other couples. Even just for the night, he was mine, and I was thankful enough to not ask for more.

But the world didn’t work like that. Instead I had these tiny, private moments that seemed to be over too quickly. The warmth of it over before the markings faded.

“You’re being unusually quiet, Bard.”

He used my moniker the way anyone else would have used pet names. I used to get irritated by his dismissal of my actual name, but now I know… I understand the depth of things he was trying to say without words. I could hear the “ _my_ ” without him saying it, felt the ownership palpable in the vibrations of his rumble.

“Just thinking.”

“Isn’t silently brooding typically my job?” Geralt asked, while casually circling the border of the room.

The room itself consisted of two parts on two floors, an inner vastly open space—in which people danced, ate, and congregated. Above that—on the second floor—was a balcony overlooking the ballroom’s open space, crested with pillars at various intervals.

Despite the great hanging chandelier hoisted above the center room, the balconies above were very dimly lit. As we walked up the stairs, we could see there were couples squared off in dark nooks taking advantage of a little privacy in public, and the thrill of almost exposure—which I was now quite familiar with.

I couldn’t help reaching out and gripping Geralt’s arm then, feeling the familiar warmth of arousal wash over my body at the memory of our first encounter. I saw him flash a glance my way, and perhaps the barest hint of a smirk twitched at the edges of his lips.

It was the only break in his usual demeanor that reminded me of the playfulness he could sometimes exude.

“I’m allowed to moodily ruminate on something too, you know. You don’t own exclusive brooding rights.” It sounded like I was pouting, but since no one could see me, it would never be confirmed.

“Hmm.” Geralt’s usual reply was starting to grate on my nerves, and I think he could sense some of my unease. “Just because I can’t see you, doesn’t mean I can’t feel you right beside me.”

Something felt charged in that statement, though I couldn’t figure out if he meant simply to tease me.

“True, but if I slipped away, you’d have a hard time tracking me down,” I murmured quietly as we passed a small congregation of nattering couples.

“If you ran, I would find you.”

It was stated so resolutely, that I almost found myself agreeing. My belly squirmed with strange excitement.

“What would you wager?”

Geralt stopped walking, and since I’d still been holding on to him, it meant that I was forced to stop quite abruptly too. I could feel him looking at me, though I didn’t dare turn to see. I knew if I did, I would succumb to whatever he dared to desire in that moment.

And yet…

My eyes flicked up at him unconsciously. There was fire behind his yellow-y hues, and lust stirring beneath his flesh. It only occured to me then that he might have known all along about the party, but had come all the same with dark intentions. All along I thought I was playing the part of the coy kitten, but I was the mouse.

He leaned down as much as he could without arousing suspicion, and whispered practically in my ear.

“If I find you, I will devour you.” Geralt’s voice shot straight down my spine, tingling every inch of me like lightning tendrils.

“Then you better find me fast,” I murmured in reply. I attempted for playfully coy, but it came out waveringly hungry. I didn’t linger long enough to catch his reaction, opting instead to wind my way carefully through the congregated mass of bodies, completely unaware of my presence.

When I did finally look back, Geralt was gone. _Shit._

I looked around for the best possible hiding spot, and wondered if it would be better to simply keep moving. I knew he’d find me eventually, and the thought of it sent a zinging thrill all the way through me. Half of me was ready to lay myself out for him, just let him find me and have his wicked way with me as quickly as possible. But no, he wouldn’t dare do something here… would he?

In my haze of lust, it took me a few moments to realise I’d stopped moving. Frowning, I looked down to see why my feet weren’t obeying the flow of my body, and saw the brightly coloured sigil. I knew that only I would be able to see it, as well as its original caster…In all our time together, he’d never used a spell on me, but it makes sense that the one he would use was Yrden. I wasn’t familiar with everything in his Witcher arsenal, but I’d seen him use this a few times before.

The air shifted behind me; I knew he was there even without seeing him.

“I could smell your lust from across the room,” Geralt growled into my ear.

I shuddered, mouth opening and closing as I felt him press me harder against the wall. My arms slumped over the ledge as I blinked and watched the people gathered in the center. The host’s son was giving a grand speech that had grabbed most people’s attention, but I couldn’t hear a single word with the blood rushing through my ears.

“G-Geralt,” I gasped, whispering as softly as I could. It wouldn’t do to have everyone turn around and catch us in such a compromising position. Well Geralt at any rate, it wasn’t like they could see me. However I didn’t want him getting caught either. It would mean an end to our game, and heavens knew how bad I needed him.

“I knew where you were the entire time. You think you’re able to escape me, but the reality is I didn’t need any help in trapping you.”

I could feel his hips grinding against me slowly, driving me deeper into a lust filled frenzy. When he whispered again, I felt his lips press up my neck—his throat rumbling with suppressed desire.

“The mere thought of being hunted by me was enough, my sly little fox.”

 _Fuck_. I felt my body tremble against the weight of him draped over me. His hands roamed down the sides of my arms until they were able to entwine with mine. Reaching our hands out, he placed them on the balcony’s ledge—which kept us hidden and seperate from the rest of the party.

If anyone decided to turn around, they would see Geralt casually leaning over the half-wall, looking slightly tense but otherwise unflustered.

As he moved his hands back, I heard some shifting sounds that were most definitely fabric, and—without looking—I surmised that Geralt was opening the front of his leathers. This was swiftly followed by his tender touch along my back, teasing until his fingers could hook around the back of my own trousers.

I felt him pull slowly, sliding the fabric down until they reached mid-thigh. I tilted my head at the realization that I was now _trapped_.

“Geralt?” I murmured as softly as I could. I didn’t want to bring attention to us, but I was also extremely uncertain about the situation I found myself in.

“Patience, Jaskier.”

I nearly groaned over the sound of my name falling so perfectly from his lips. He could make a stew recipe sound deliriously erotic to me at this point.

He followed his comment with a hand parting my thighs. Seconds later, I could feel the tip of his cock slide between the softest part of me. A blush formed on my cheeks as I squeaked in indignation.

H-he was _fucking_ my thighs. _Oh Divinity, save me_ ; it was so lascivious and almost completely foreign to me on a carnal level, that I found myself rocking back against him. Obviously, it wasn’t nearly the same level of ecstasy it would have been had Geralt been inside me—but that didn’t stop it from being the single most debauched moment of my short life.

The sounds Geralt made weren’t loud enough to alert the people around us, but to me they may as well have been shouts. I’m certain it was a combination of the fact that he was fucking me in front of everyone, and the additional possessive detail of me being unseen to anyone. But I knew there was something about the way he slid between my clenched thighs that was really doing him in.

He took it slow but rough to start, plunging between my barely parted flesh. It didn’t take long for a trail of pre-come to ease the path, but that came with a price. The feeling of my thighs getting slick was pulling soft whimpers from my throat, while my body continued to tremble against him. I was harder than I could ever remember being and, fuck, I needed to touch myself but I also needed to maintain stability. He’d positioned me so precariously against the wall, that I truly didn’t have a choice but to remain exactly where I was. I understood in that moment, that he’d done it on purpose, to torture me.

There was a kind of power I now had, which I hadn’t observed until that moment—a power over Geralt suddenly within my grasp. Every now and then, on every surge forward, I would squeeze my thighs together, tightening the space encapsulating him. It started with a quavering in his hands, that I could feel everywhere he touched. And then a sound, something like a deep, monstrous growl, rumbled from Geralt’s core.

Perhaps it was even a bit of a purr in some ways? Because I could feel it press into me with each roll of his languidly thrusting hips.

“Geralt, please…” I felt myself say. The air felt hot and sticky around me, the salty smell of pre-come, and sex, surrounding us. It made me desperate to grab hold of my own cock and stroke as fast and hard as I possibly could.

As quickly as he could move without arousing suspicion, Geralt gripped me tighter and pushed himself closer to his own impending climax. There was a moment where I felt like a toy, just a thing for him to take his pleasure from, and if that wasn’t the most arousing thing I’d ever imagined, I don’t know what was. I nearly came from that alone.

I couldn’t though.

“Close-” Geralt snarled in my ear, breath panting out in harsh almost gasps.

Not long after, I felt him spilling hot down my legs. I cringed inwardly as I knew it would soak into my trousers, and yet at the same time, knowing he’d covered me in his scent was also oddly thrilling.

The feel of his breathing continued to send shocks over my neck, and I shifted enough to remind him that he wasn’t alone in this journey.

Hearing him curse, I immediately snapped my head up—but I didn’t see any pointed looks or stares our way.

“What?” I worried that something else might have happened, and quickly pulled away to right my clothes, when I understood.

I could start to see my hands.

“Shit.”

“We need to go.”

“Yeah.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me as I finished buttoning my trousers and made a break for it, Geralt right on my heels. It wasn’t until we were well down the garden, and headed to Roach, that my form completely manifested.

“Wow, I can honestly say I’ve missed me.” I laughed incredulously, flipping my arms over and over. “I will never again take being seen for granted.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Geralt sounded amused, despite his gruff tone.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Here, go this way.”

Geralt pointed down a secondary path that seemed to wind away from the bright lights of the main house. It was probably a better idea since I technically didn’t have an invitation, and though Geralt could probably claim me as his guest, it was easier simply to avoid the problem. Of course, I hadn’t thought that Geralt had been planning all along to return the favour until he had me pinned to a tree.

His lips tasted like brandy wine and ash. His arms were like branching vines, tightening around me the more I moved about.

“Stay. Put,” Geralt ordered.

“I’ll try.” I shivered, feeling him strip me of my trousers once more.

“You’ll do as you're told, Bard. It wasn’t a suggestion.”

“Oh, _fuck me_ ,” I groaned, feeling more comfortable with being a bit noisier out here.

His lips pressed a blazing trail against my exposed hips, teasing me with lips and tongue in the softest ways. I couldn’t have imagined this man to be as gentle and delicate with me as he was right now. The feel of his nose burrowing against—what had to be the most heavily scented—part of me made me shiver. I knew where he was going, what he was planning to do...but imagining something and actually encountering it were two completely different things.

Seeing Geralt kneeling on the ground, mouth wrapped around my sensitive tip, about to swallow me whole, and then looking up at me with those yellow eyes...I felt my soul leave this mortal plane.

“Geralt…” I cried out, hips bucking forward for more of that wonderful feeling of warmth and wetness wrapped around me. “Please, fuck.”

I felt his chuckle all around my cock, and his tongue nearly vibrating against the sensitive, veiny underside. I wasn’t small by any means, and that was a particular point of pride for me, but I felt small in the cavernous depths of his mouth. I could see his lips stretching around me as he took more and more of me in.

“Fuuuuck, please Geralt. I-” I pleaded, with no real concept of what I was pleading for. There was desperation in my tone, my body shaking encouragingly beneath his skilled hands—now bruising in their grip of my hips.

Out of curiosity, I slid my hands through his hair, taking fistfuls at a time and grasping tightly. At the same time, I rolled my hips slowly into his mouth, watching and feeling the way Geralt accepted the change in direction. He was letting me fuck his mouth, perhaps even wanted it, if the hand pressing into the front of his pants was anything to go by. I was surprised that he was already ready to go again, but then perhaps I shouldn’t be. He was not like anyone else I’d ever met, and perhaps more insatiable than I’d first realised.

“Nhh, fuck. Your mouth is just...perfect.” I felt a growl rising up and nearly laughed. Perhaps I was spending too much time listening to Geralt’s noises.

I was reminded, for a moment, of the vision I’d held in my mind when I touched myself at the river the day before. The real thing was a sight more vivid and heady than I could have ever imagined. In this position, Geralt was as vulnerable as I’d ever seen him. It was clear he knew it too—it was written in the rigid lines of his body, ready to jump into a fight at any moment. But it was also in the softness of his eyes. He was giving me a taste of something I highly doubted anyone else had ever seen.

I whimpered softly into the night air, not even bothering to hide my need any longer. I’d spent three days completely invisible, and in those three days I’d never been so thoroughly debauched—and yet also so incredibly happy.

“Ah-ah, f-fuck Geralt. I-I’m ge-” I couldn’t finish the thought as my brain clouded over with lust.

It was his look that finally sent me over the edge, shouting his name and my desperation for him. I wanted him in my arms, wanted to wrap myself around him as we kissed, tasting the rather bitter flavour on his tongue. I wanted to feel him stroke himself off between us as we kissed and held each other. And then I wanted to head back to our room at the inn and spend the rest of the night pressed against him in various ways.

I could admit it, right here in the woods, pressed against a tree while Geralt tried to suck my very soul out of my cock. I could admit that there was happiness swelling in my chest, and a contented feeling dripping like rain from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. I was happy. Very much so. Regardless of if anything came of it after the fact, I had these small moments with Geralt right now, and I would take them with me for the rest of my days.

Even if he left in the morning, off to save humanity from itself or some other horror, I knew that this wasn’t the end. Not by any means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr: @tsundanire for more stuff~!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr @tsundanire for updates, drabbles, and other content!


End file.
